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I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

And then his cock was inside me. My back scraped against the rough stone as he drove hard and deep between my thighs, impaling me against my father’s altar.

He thrust into me again and again, picking up speed, then slowing, pulling out almost completely, letting the head of his cock sit there, notched against my pussy until I moaned and lifted myself, trying to spread my legs wider and force him back in.

Hazily, I looked up at him.

He was looking down at me like some almighty god, the hard lines of his jaw tight, his eyes like gleaming gems.

“Please, Draven, please...”

“Stop,” he commanded. I fell silent. “Let me look at you.” His hands tightened their grip on my wrists. It was painful. I felt my skin scraping against the stones and hoped I’d be rubbed raw.

A harsh and brutal kind of gratification. That was what we both needed.

No one could hurt me like he could. He wouldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t allow it. And the same was true of him.

Our love had blossomed into a dark flower, covered in thorns.

Only we could give each other what we needed right now. Enough torment and pleasure to somehow take away the other kind of pain.

And in this hurt, we would help each other heal.

“For fuck’s sake, silver,” my mate whispered above me. “Fuck, but you feel good. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want this to ever end.”

I looked up at his face, saw the expression in his eyes, and finally understood.

He was mourning more than Gawain, more than Rychel. He was mourning for this. For us.

Because my love believed we didn’t have much of us left. He thought we were going to die in the Black Mountain.

Or at least that he was.

“It won’t end.” I lifted my hips and forced a guttural groan from him as his cock re-entered my wetness. I tightened myself around him. “It won’t ever end. Eternal, Draven. That’s what you said. You and I are eternal. There’s no going back on that.”

And I knew it was true, in my heart of hearts, in my blood, in my very bones, in my soul. I was his for all eternity. No one could take us from each other. Not even in death.

“We found each other,” I whispered. “Not for the first time.”

His gaze narrowed on me as if I had said something strange but familiar.

“You’ve always known it,” I said quietly. “I suppose I have, too.”

He drew his hips back then slammed into me, and gods, I felt every inch of him.

“Every twisted part of me is yours. And every twisted part of you is mine. The good and the bad. All of it. Forever. You’re fucking mine, Draven Venator. Don’t you ever forget it.”

He pulled out of me, teasing me, and I lifted my hips, my body clinging to him like a lifeline. I felt restless, frantic, desperate to have him inside me again.

And then he started to fuck me. Really, truly fuck me.

Releasing my wrists, he gripped my hips hard, slamming into me, hitting my core so deep, I threw my head back and screamed. His hands reached up to squeeze my breasts, so taut and so heavy. Every part of me was desperate and starving for his touch.

He moved his mouth down to one of my nipples, and I moaned, overwhelmed and nearly delirious at the feel of him, the fullness of him. His cock stroked in and out.

I closed my eyes, lost in the heady tide.

And then I felt his hand slip between us, finding the spot that would drive me to the edge and push me over. His fingers stroked my clit, and my head slammed back hard against the altar slab.